


Missing Piece

by orphan_account



Series: What Difference Would It Make? [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adopted Children, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:14:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27608834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After moving into Fern Cottage together, it's not long before Harry and Draco finally realise they're missing one very important thing. There's a spare room that needs to be filled, a house that's too quiet, and Draco, quite frankly, needs to learn that he can't barter with Hermione over how long he gets to babysit Rose.~-*-~ Excerpt ~-*-~They watched Rose grow. Listened to Ron and Hermione’s talk of - if they felt it was the right time - possibly having another child. And all the while, Harry could only remember the words that Ron had said: that there was never really a ‘good’ time, it was whenever you were ready - and it was good as long as you loved them.Harry just wished that he and Draco could have the chance at all.*Note: This works absolutely fine as a standalone, so there's no need to have read 'What Difference Would It Make?' for this to make sense. All you need to know is Harry and Draco live together in a cottage.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: What Difference Would It Make? [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2018410
Comments: 2
Kudos: 62





	1. One More Piece

Life at Fern Cottage had been sweet and peaceful.

Both Harry and Draco settled into a routine that felt like second nature, and yet it never became stale, either. Work was as challenging as always, but the exhaustion settled into their bones blissfully, their days off feeling kinder than ever. Weekends were spent split between visiting the Burrow, babysitting Rose, relaxing in the comfortable quiet of the cottage, or the odd occasion where Draco met up with some of the other healers from work for a friendly quidditch match. The latter had been a development that Harry had been beyond pleased to see.

And yet, something was missing.

It hadn’t been obvious to Harry at first, just a niggling, persistent thought that the cottage – as compact and cosy as it appeared – was a little too quiet sometimes. A little too empty. But life, as it often did, trundled on by and obscured the feelings for a while. It was only when, one day, Draco was reading a book to Rose after agreeing to babysit, that a twinge of something akin to jealously hit him like a ton of bricks – and the feeling hadn’t left him since.

For a long time, he ignored it, not quite knowing how to bring the idea up to Draco, not entirely clear what their options were and of those options, what would be best for them. Terrified that for whatever reason, perhaps Draco didn’t want to raise a child with him, that babysitting their friend’s children was enough.

Mulling over that idea gave him more than a few sleepless nights, even if he knew it was a ridiculous thought.

~-*-~

“I don’t understand what the fuss is about, Granger,” Draco said, doing a very poor job of hiding his pout. Hermione raised her eyebrow at the use of her surname. “It’s only one more day.”

Ron, who was leant up against one of the kitchen counters, turned his gaze towards Harry and gave him a smirk. Harry looked between him, Hermione, Draco, and could only manage a weak shrug. It felt like this little argument happened constantly these days.

“Draco, you’ve been babysitting Rose every weekend for the past three weeks,” Hermione sighed, moving over to him to prise her daughter from his arms. He gave in, very reluctantly. The pout was clearer than ever. “I know you like looking after her, but I think Molly might murder us if she doesn’t see her granddaughter soon.”

Draco, finally, let out a defeated sigh and pushed a stray strand of hair from his eyes. “I know,” he admitted.

“Not that we don’t appreciate you having her,” Hermione added. She meant it deeply. Even with Draco’s reaction when Hermione had announced the pregnancy, she never would have guessed he’d grow so attached to Rose or want to help out as much as he did.

And, truth be told, Rose always kicked up a massive fuss when she went home. Ron had been incredibly grumpy about it for a while until Hermione had sternly talked some sense into him.

Still, she knew exactly why Draco was so attached to the little girl, even beyond the obvious. She’d gone through the exact same sense of broodiness. But that was an issue even _she_ wouldn’t interfere with. Besides, she had a strong feeling Harry had cottoned on about it even before her.

Draco and Hermione’s conversation drifted to more mundane topics, repeating words back to Rose when she babbled excitedly at them. Ron turned and moved closer to Harry.

“So, what’s the plan with all this, then?”

Harry frowned and cocked an eyebrow. “With what?”

“You _know_ ,” Ron whispered, his eyes flicking back to Hermione and Draco for a second. “You’re not telling me you don’t want kids.”

“Of course we do. But…well, we’ve not really talked about it too much yet,” Harry admitted. “With work and settling in...it just, doesn’t feel like the right time.”

“Trust me, mate, I don’t think it’s ever the right time,” Ron chuckled. “But what I do know is you better talk about it soon, or Draco’s gunna be hiding Rose away in a cupboard or something so we can’t take her home.”

Harry didn’t respond, only sipped at his tea nonchalantly and quickly flicked his free hand in Ron’s direction – who winced as something stung him in the side.

“I hate it when you do that,” Ron hissed.

“That’s exactly why I do it.”

Ron shot him a betrayed look before Hermione was calling for him. Harry and Draco saw the two off, waving at a disgruntled looking Rose from the front door, and Harry tried not to notice the miserable look in Draco’s face as they disappeared from sight.

~-*-~

Harry didn’t know why he felt as though his conversation with Draco required so much effort. He’d pandered to the man all day, picked up more than his fair share of chores, even offered to cook them dinner so Draco could relax. But rather than rest, Draco had been painfully on edge and suspicious, popping into the kitchen more than what was required as though afraid Harry’s grand plan was to blow the cottage up.

In the end, the conversation that Harry had been both dreading and yet intensely eager to have – came easier than he could have ever imagined. Because it seemed as though Draco was at his wit's end.

They were settled in the dining room, the late afternoon sun settling low and golden in bright streaks across the walls, and Harry swore that Draco somehow knew he was about to speak, because the minute he thought to open his mouth – Draco’s cutlery was clattering onto his plate, hands pressed into the table as though bracing himself, speaking fast as though afraid the words would never come.

“Harry, I really hope you’re on the same wavelength as me with this. Because, frankly, I feel like I might explode if I don’t talk about it soon. I know we’re busy and I know we can’t exactly go about this in a conventional sense...or if you even feel the same, but, well…”

Draco paused then, as though waiting for Harry to cut him off, or that his sudden bout of boldness had subsided. The clock in the dining room ticked away - but Harry didn’t interrupt. He waited, urging Draco to continue, but the other man’s eyes were trained on the plate in front of him again, unable to bring himself to continue.

Harry was trying not to let a hopeful little smile creep out across his features. “When was the last time we weren’t on the same page about something, Draco?”

Draco swallowed, nodded a little to himself, then mumbled: “Probably an hour ago. Bickering is our _thing_ , you realise?”

Harry let out a huff of a laugh and rolled his eyes. He reached across the table for one of Draco’s hands and squeezed it, knowing Draco was trying to mellow out the mood he’d created, but Harry wouldn’t let it go, nor let the other man stew in his own thoughts, a habit that would never truly leave him.

Though a sliver of doubt still whispered in Harry’s head that maybe Draco _wasn’t_ eluding to what he thought, he took the step Draco wasn’t willing to make. “We could look into adopting. I always thought that would be a nice avenue...considering, well, you know.”

A moment of silence passed, but Harry noticed how Draco’s grip had tightened. He watched the other man’s face, watched the way Draco’s eyes widened a little, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, the way his free hand twitched as though ready to cover up his grin.

In the end, all Draco did was laugh before getting up to the table and falling into Harry’s open arms.

~-*-~

They agreed not to talk about their plans, not until they’d passed the assessment, at least, and knew for sure it was the path they’d be taking. Harry, as much as he wanted to talk about it, was fairing far better than Draco, at the very least. Seeing Rose, though a joy, appeared to remind him of what he was waiting for.

Over the next year, it felt like an endless string of checks, registrations, training, and more than a few chats with previous adopters. Draco seemed to have a near-permanent twitch in his leg as he suffered through appointments, but his face was always set with determination. If Harry didn’t love him enough before, seeing the resolve he had through the process – all to start a small family with him – increased his affection tenfold.

They watched Rose grow. Listened to Ron and Hermione’s talk of - if they felt it was the right time - possibly having another child. And all the while, Harry could only remember the words that Ron had said, that there was never really a ‘good’ time, it was whenever you were ready, and it was good as long as you loved them.

Harry just wished that he and Draco could have the chance at all.

~-*-~

Just as their patience felt ready to snap, another step was made. After months and months of assessments, feeling like they’d never get through the first few hurdles – their hard work and worrying paid off. The day they’d gotten the green light had been like a dream. Hazy, dizzying almost, but so incredibly relieving.

But that blossom of warmth they felt when the go-ahead came through was nothing compared to when they revealed they were through the assessment phase - and waiting for a match. It was as though the waiting had never happened at all. The sleepless nights but a distant memory. Everything falling into place as quick and clean as they could hope for - even if the reality was far different. The progress made it all feel worth it.

Harry had been expecting the tears and the bruising hugs from Molly, but Narcissa’s watery eyes and iron grip had done nothing short of surprise him. Draco hadn’t been surprised at all. Had only held his mother just as tightly, mumbling into the crook of her neck, both of their smiles blinding in their intensity.

They’d returned home, smothered with contentment, and each day that crawled by didn’t seem so bad as the last. Because their dreams were in plain sight. Soon enough, the house wouldn’t be so quiet. The spare room wouldn’t be so empty.

And though life as they knew it would be tipped upside down – they couldn’t be more excited if they tried.


	2. Complete

There were no words Harry could find to describe the immediate love he felt for the little boy in his arms.

When they entered the room, knowing they were to take their son home, Draco had been stunned into silence. Immobile. Simply watched as Harry rocked the small bundle in his arms, whispering low and quiet, his eyes flickering across the child’s features. The boy’s eyes were closed at first. A mop of unruly, dark brown hair atop his head, his tiny hands clenching and unclenching as he listened to Harry’s voice, unperturbed by the strange, new hold. The new sounds. Utterly at peace with them both.

And then he opened his eyes – and they were pale, grey-blue. Draco idly wondered if they would change. Whether they’d blossom into a green vibrant enough to match Harry’s own, or whether they’d stay that same, steely shade. A part of him hoped for the latter. A small reflection of one of his newfound parents in him, like it had always been meant to be.

“Merlin,” Harry choked, blinking his rapidly tearing eyes, staring up at the ceiling for a moment and taking in a deep breath to calm himself. He couldn’t even come close to explaining the emotion swirling around in his chest in that moment, could only let out a quiet huff of a laugh. But Draco knew what was going through his mind because he felt it, too. Their child was perfect.

Tentatively, Draco reached out a hand and ran his thumb across the boy's soft cheek. His eyes fluttered, opened wide, and stared directly at Draco with nothing shy of awe. Draco chuckled, repeating the gentle motion.

“Hello, Josiah,” he whispered.

~-*-~

It was difficult to relax during that first night.

Although they’d decorated and furnished the spare room, both Harry and Draco had agreed to set up a cot in their own room for a while until things settled. They needn’t have worried. Josiah was calm, hardly fussy at all. His big, blue eyes had roamed around the cottage as though he was in a playroom, gurgling and near-mumbling to himself as he watched the few portraits they had wave and coo at him in their frames. Josiah’s face slackened into unbridled astonishment as he watched bright rays of sun dance across the floor in the living room as the day closed. Draco had almost been sad when Josiah’s eyes had begun to grow heavy, dropping asleep in his arms as he rocked him from one of the armchairs in the front room. He’d had to give in and put him to bed.

Harry and Draco grabbed a warm drink, resisting the urge to immediately go check on the boy, but still found they drained their mugs too quickly and decided to settle into bed, Draco with a book in his lap, Harry idly dozing as the sky grew ever darker. They felt anything but tired, but knew that would change all too soon, and relished in the challenge of it.

When Harry let out an enormous yawn and stretched out on the bed, Draco got up to freshen up again before they slept. When he emerged from the bathroom, he couldn’t help but peer over into the cot where their son lay, one small arm up above his head, chubby fingers flexing as though in a dream, looking as peaceful as could be. His heart fluttered.

All the worry, the paperwork, the assessments, the endless waiting – had been entirely worth it.

Draco heard the bed creak and soon enough, Harry was behind him, wrapping his arms around Draco and resting his head on the other man’s shoulder, peering down at Josiah.

“I could stand here all night,” Draco said, and Harry let out a quiet laugh.

“I know. Almost doesn’t feel real. Like a dream.”

“I don’t think any dream of mine has ever been as nice as this,” Draco mumbled, nearly inaudible, as though embarrassed to admit it. But then he remembered a long, near-forgotten dream he’d had, such a long time ago now, in the midst of recovering at St. Mungo’s. Warm summer sun, a gentle brush against his cheek, a soothing voice that was so familiar. Maybe Draco was wrong. There’d been plenty of dreams of his that had been as sweet as this one. Only this was real. And this was something he’d never truly realised he’d wanted. Needed.

Harry pressed a kiss against Draco’s shoulder, one on the neck, then his cheek.

“Come on. We’ll need our sleep,” Harry urged.

The pair slipped under the sheets, tangling themselves together as though they might drift away from each other, mumbling words they’d said a thousand times or more, words that never lost their meaning - and drifted into a light, but comfortable, sleep.

~-*-~

Draco almost, _almost_ , regretted all the times he’d hogged Rose from family and friends, because the shoe was finally on the other foot.

He watched from the doorway of the living room, with a strange mixture of profound affection and intense jealously, as Hermione held Josiah, cooing at him, and the little boy laughed and reached up to her. Envy aside, he couldn’t help but grin, trying and failing to hide his joy behind one hand. His eyes spoke of volumes of delight, even if he did try to conceal his smile.

“He’s _gorgeous_ ,” Hermione cooed, and Draco had a feeling that she was somehow still broody, despite the fact her stomach showed her to be well on the way to giving Rose a sibling.

Before, when talk of another child had been nothing but idle chatter, Draco had almost been depressed with the knowledge that, for them, having a child would be nothing but endless waiting without any real promise. But now, he was beyond glad things had happened how they did, _when_ they did. Josiah would have someone to grow up with through life, not a chance in the world he’d be isolated or forgotten, surrounded by people that cared for him, even if he didn’t understand it just yet.

Draco settled down on the sofa next to Hermione, tickling one of Josiah’s feet until his laughter reached another shrill pitch and he squirmed around in the woman’s arms. He hid his smile again into his mug of tea.

“I never asked where you got the name from,” Hermione said, sparing a glance at Draco before her gaze settled on said boy again.

“Harry thought of it, actually,” Draco said. “It never even crossed my mind but…it just fit.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t go down the Malfoy route, if I’m honest,” Hermione admitted.

“I surprised myself,” Draco chuckled. “My mother was dropping a lot of hints about it, I’ll say that much.”

Hermione’s face slackened into concern. “Was she upset you didn’t keep the tradition?”

Draco mulled over it for a moment, before shaking his head. “At first, perhaps. But then again, we’ve not exactly been upholding many traditions these days. But that's for the best. When we told her the name we’d settled on she seemed happy enough. Certainly doesn’t complain when we ask her to babysit. I need an iron bar to pry Jo away from her,” Draco said, rolling his eyes.

Hermione snorted and gave him a scathing look. “Now, who does that remind me of?”

“Oh, be quiet,” Draco hissed. Then, as an afterthought: “I do expect to babysit Rose just as often, you realise?”

Hermione let out a deep sigh, but a grin broke out across her face all the same.

~-*-~

The Manor, as it turned out, was entirely too big for its own good.

It had never bothered Narcissa or Draco. Harry had found it daunting at various points in his ever-increasing visits, and both Ron and Hermione had found it somewhat intimidating at times. The issue of its size only truly occurred when Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco paid Narcissa a visit so she could meet baby Hugo.

That, and the fact Rose was becoming far too adept at walking these days.

Between fussing over Josiah and Hugo, Narcissa worrying over Hermione as though she’d only been out of the hospital yesterday – it was incredibly easy not to notice the toddler’s disappearance until Draco realised there was no longer a garbled string of words floating in the air along with their conversation.

Draco squinted around the large living room, and soon enough it caught Hermione’s attention. Draco was about to panic until Hermione let out a lofty sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose. He had the feeling this might be becoming a common occurrence.

“Oh, _Ron_ , she’s wandered off again.”

Ron straightened up in his seat and looked around the room as though to double-check, and then groaned, standing up from the plush sofa. “I don’t understand how bloody sneaky Rose is when she wants to be. Rest of the time it’s hard _not_ to notice her,” he grumbled, though it was easy to sense the affection in his words, regardless.

Narcissa looked up, Hugo snoozing in her arms, and her eyebrows knitted together with a hint of concern. “She couldn’t have gone far, surely. And I did make sure I closed the doors into the other rooms. Or, rather, I _hope_ I did.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ron said, waving a hand. “I’m sure she’s fine.”

“ _Ron_ ,” Hermione scolded. “She could be getting into all kinds of things. We don’t want her _breaking_ anything.”

“It’s character building, Hermione,” Ron said with a smirk. He flinched when Hermione started angrily digging into her jacket pocket for her wand, however. “ _Alright_ , bloody hell, I’m _going_.”

“I’ll come with you,” Draco said, passing Josiah carefully over to Harry. Ron didn’t argue. Even after visiting semi-regularly so Hermione could catch up with Narcissa, he still managed to get lost so much as going to the loo.

They stepped out of the living room and looked up and down the hallway, but Rose wasn’t in sight. They listened out to try and hear some sign of her, but they couldn’t hear anything apart from Narcissa’s concerned drawl behind them.

“I hate it when she’s quiet,” Ron mumbled. “It means she’s up to something.”

Draco sniggered. “She’s turning out to be quite the handful.”

“She’s too bloody curious for her own good, I’ll say that. Hard to keep her occupied lately.”

“Takes after Hermione, then,” Draco said, leading Ron down the hall so they could check the many doors lining the walls.

Ron smiled. “If she doesn’t end up a brainbox like ‘mione, I’ll be surprised.”

They were about to carry on down the hallway when they heard a thump from their left. Glancing in that direction, they could see that the door into the kitchen was ajar. The pair rushed over, relieved Rose hadn’t gone far or delved into some of the other studies, but a little concerned at what trouble she was getting into.

But, as they rounded the door and investigated the kitchen - they could only laugh.

Rose was sat on the tiles near the cabinets, seemingly engulfed in a cloud of smoke – but the broken bag of flour on the countertops now spilling its contents onto the floor told them otherwise.

“Don’t tell me you were just _hungry_ ,” Ron asked her. Rose spared him a glance and a cheeky grin before her attention was on the cabinet again.

“I take it back,” Draco snickered. “She takes after _you_.”

Ron pulled his arm back, ready to punch Draco’s arm – until Draco whipped out his wand and aimed it over to where Rose was. He turned just in time to see Draco catch the falling biscuit tin that Rose’d had her eyes intently on, floating it towards himself instead and grabbing for it. Rose whined as the tin took a different trajectory than what she’d planned.

“How’d she managed that?” Ron asked, looking between his daughter and Draco.

Draco shot him a disbelieving scowl. “Are you sure you’re not a muggle?”

Ron’s face took on a rather fetching shade of pink before he scooped Rose up, both heading back to the living room. Draco took the biscuit tin with him, giving Rose a small grin as she craned her head around in Ron’s grasp and looked for the treats.

Hermione and Narcissa let out relieved sighs when they returned with Rose - before they realised the young girl was covered head to toe in flour.

“There might be a bit of a mess in the kitchen, mother,” Draco explained, and Narcissa chuckled.

“Nothing a quick spell can’t fix, I suppose,” she replied. Then, under her breath: “Though I was rather hoping she might slip into your father’s study and have her way with the awful thing.”

Ron sat down with Rose in his lap, but she soon wiggled out of it to squeeze herself in between Draco and Harry, her eyes never leaving the biscuit tin. Draco opened it and offered it to her. Her hand dipped in once, retrieved a biscuit, but she began to whine as he pulled it away again. He left it where it was and let her take more.

“Oh, _Rose_ , you won’t eat your dinner later.”

“She will,” Ron laughed. “She’s got her dad’s appetite.”

Rose took out three more biscuits, almost juggling them in her uncoordinated grip. She looked up at Harry, down to Josiah, and held one of the biscuits in his face.

Harry chuckled. “He can’t eat that just yet, love,” he explained, even though he knew she wouldn’t understand.

Confusion spread across her face when the boy didn’t take it so, instead, she rested it on his chest, slipped down from the sofa, and headed for Narcissa and her brother. She did the same and reached up to place the biscuit nearby, Narcissa offering her a pleasant 'thank you', before the girl settled down on the floor next to her mother’s feet and ate her own.

Hermione beamed down at her and stroked her hair. “That was very nice of you, Rose.”

Rose looked up and grinned, crumbs covering her mouth.

~-*-~

Josiah’s face was set, oddly determined, as he crawled across the grass outside of the cottage and out of Draco’s reach. Quickly, Draco leaned over, almost on his stomach, and grasped the little boy around the waist.

“Merlin, he’s getting fast,” Draco grumbled, hauling Josiah back into his lap and kissing the top of his head, mumbling into his dark hair that he _must_ stay still. Harry chuckled to himself, slipping his arm around Draco’s waist and rubbing circles into his side.

The sun was high and bright. Every living thing in the garden blossoming into rich greens and fragrant flowers. The air was warm, a light breeze running through the trees and rustling Josiah’s downy hair.

Ron, Hermione, Hugo, and Rose, were all settled just beyond them on a large picnic blanket. In front of them, Molly was hovering over Arthur who was holding a near-comically large camera that looked as though it was one of the first in production. With the weather as nice as it was and with Josiah growing more animated and mobile by the second, they’d asked if they wouldn’t mind taking some pictures they could hang up in the cottage and put into an album as a keepsake for when Josiah was older.

As it stood, they probably had enough to wallpaper the entire house by then, but Arthur was determined to get it just right. Ron and Hermione were looking entirely too smug in the background now that Draco and Harry were under the torture of Arthur’s photography skills.

“Oh, come _on_ , Arthur. They’ve probably got pins and needles by now,” Molly huffed.

“Just a few more, pumpkin,” Arthur said jovially. “Want to make sure they’ve plenty to choose from.”

Harry bit back a laugh and by the look on Draco’s face, he was trying very hard not to do the same. Josiah gurgled and wriggled in Draco’s arms.

“Jo,” Molly called, crouching down a little with a wince. “Look over here my darling. That’s it,” she cooed.

Harry tugged Draco a little closer. They shared a glance, soft smiles forming on their faces, before looking down to Josiah who’d begun giggling like a madman in Draco’s arms. They burst into laughter before looking back towards Arthur and Molly – and the camera’s flash went off, nearly blinding them.

“Perfect!” Arthur announced, finally standing up and brushing off his knees. “Now, then, where’s this picnic you were talking about?”

Molly batted his arm and huffed, muttering something about how people would think he never got fed.

“I best go get lunch before they start squabbling,” Draco whispered with a smirk.

Harry laughed, picked Josiah up, and grinned as Draco pressed a small kiss to his cheek. Before Draco could straighten up fully, he snagged the man’s collar and pulled him in for a proper kiss, quick and sweet.

The afternoon flew by, filled with chatter and laughter, Rose’s excited giggles and valiant attempts of escape by running off towards the hedges (Harry only just caught her before she dove headfirst into a bush of sticky buds), the affectionate bickering between Ron and Hermione that rivalled Arthur and Molly’s. Hugo and Josiah were happy enough to crawl around on the picnic blanket and be fussed over, their attempts to escape not quite as successful as Rose’s.

As the sun began to wane, none of them took notice as Josiah inched closer to the edge of the blanket, his little hands touching the grass experimentally. His eyes settled on the fragile, closed bud of daisy in front of him. And if one were to look close enough, they might have seen as the petals curled open - and the flower bloomed.

~-*-~

Inside Fern Cottage, on a wall behind the living room sofa, a mural of sorts was beginning to form.

Animated faces of friends and family peered into the camera and across the room. Some stole loving glances from one another. Others laughed and grinned to each other, nudging the people next to them with their elbows, sometimes mouthing at the photographer to ‘ _take the picture already!_ ’

There was a photograph of the Burrow, an enormous family portrait, heads peeking out in the background, standing on tiptoes to be seen, waving and trying very hard to be serious and collected – and failing entirely. One was settled in the formal living area of the Manor, Narcissa looking as composed and graceful as ever, but an unmistakable glint to her eyes that spoke volumes.

There were plenty others, too. Some at The Leaky Cauldron, everyone leaning over the table, raising their glasses. Harry with his first set of students, waving and grinning meekly towards the camera. Draco with his work’s quidditch team looking as smug as he’d ever been. And over the years there would be plenty more - both Harry and Draco were sure of it, all of them slotting together perfectly - like the missing pieces of one great puzzle.

And, in the centre of them all, Harry, Draco, and little Josiah held pride of place. Within it, they smiled and laughed along with the little boy, who couldn’t quite understand how loved he truly was yet – but could feel it all the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this little addition to What Difference Would It Make - and thank you for reading!
> 
> Stay safe and take care of yourselves. Much love.


End file.
